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aaeeart · 11 months

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I feel guilty about this one :')

Wanna read something evil? Read the fanfic under the cut!

New addition from the Inquisitor Kanan AU, this one is from Fortress Inquisitorius and will have some unsettling stuff (Fallen Order and Rebels were mean to captured Jedi and so am I), like you know, torture. Just fyi if you don't approve, don't read 😄 I'm posting these excerpts randomly so far - no reading order yet, take it or leave it >:)

But for some quick info, you know what this is, the jedi gets snatched, Empire is mean, the jedi is sad.

Kanan flinched awake, a dream in his head quickly dissipating leaving behind confusion and a gradual understanding. He was in a dimly lit cell in an uncomfortable interrogation chair he had occupied since his arrival at Fortress Inquisitorius. Still bound from his chest to legs, still just as much hopeless as he has been before he finally fell asleep.

His gaze fixed on the opposing wall, his features contorting as he struggled to control the tightness in his facial muscles that lingered from the fading dream. Though the specifics eluded him, he could recall the Ghost and his crew engaged in conversation, a stark contrast to his current reality. The dream had offered a temporary respite, only to further accentuate his misery upon waking.

Lost in his thoughts of the elusive fantasy, Kanan became aware of another presence only when the purge trooper made a sharp movement to his right. The trooper stood by the red barrier, assuming a stance that suggested he was surely due to be changing shifts soon.

A mischievous grin formed on Kanan’s face as he spoke, his voice laced with mockery and a touch of wonder.

„You know,“ he taunted, relishing in the opportunity to undermine the trooper’s intimidating facade, „I’ve encountered more fearsome guards at a droid spa. Straight backs and all that, you know?“ The trooper’s shoulder twitched in response to the prisoner’s remark, prompting him to adopt a more rigid and militaristic pose. Kanan chuckled inwardly, thoroughly amused by the trooper’s reaction. „Honestly, they'll have anyone guarding important people these days, wouldn’t you agree?“

Seething with anger, the trooper clenched his fist, but before he could formulate a retort, an urgent beeping emanated from his wrist com. The trooper’s helmet crackled with a distorted voice demanding his presence elsewhere. Casting a – Kanan imagined a resentful glare on his undoubtedly ugly face – at the jedi, the trooper reached for his belt pocket and deactivated the red barrier with his key card, leaving Kanan alone once more.

In the ensuing solitude, Kanan took a deep breath, attuning his senses to the surrounding environment. Though meditation proved challenging within these confines, it still offered a means to gather strength and fortify his resolve. As he struggled to calm his racing thoughts, a traitorous voice whispered in his mind, sowing seeds of doubt and despair.

"Hera didn't come for you," the voice insidiously murmured. Kanan bit his lip, determined to silence the treacherous inner dialogue. "They left you," the voice persisted, its relentless persistence threatening to erode his resolve. Frowning, Kanan pushed back against the voice, "I'm at peace with my choice." he whispered to himself and let the bubbling anger cool off. "They're safe. They're alive."

The truth of his words resonated within him. He knew deep down that he would feel it if something had befallen his crew. Besides, the Grand Inquisitor would undoubtedly relish in taunting him with such information. The Inquisitor rarely left the moon anymore, especially not since a few days ago, when apparently Lord Vader himself gave his dark side puppets the order to break their new toy.

It turned out a new jedi came to Lothal. Ahsoka Tano. The realization brought a mix of glee and apprehension. Ahsoka was a legend among the padawans, Kanan recalled, the student of Anakin Skywalker.

He supposed it only made sense she survived the Purge. She left the jedi order near the end of the war.

"Fulcrum," the Grand Inquisitor had revealed during a previous encounter, his words still reverberating in Kanan's memory. "She is the one you've been receiving orders from." The revelation had shocked Kanan.

He spent so much time thinking he was the sole survivor and yet...

"You really didn't know," the Grand Inquisitor chuckled. "How dissapointing. And how inconsiderate of your captain, don't you think?"

Kanan felt a little betrayed at the thought. Did Hera know Fulcrum was a jedi? The Inquisitor picked up on the hesitation in a split second and tried his best to exploit it.

But he left the cell as frustrated by his failure to make Kanan succumb to his emotions as he did any other day, while Kanan, if he ignored the fact he wasn't escaping any time soon, or that his body felt like it could crumble to dust with each blow, slash or surge of electricity, he felt victorious as he smiled each time the Inquisitor lost patience and left.

Ever since Ahsoka's appearance however, his situation had deteriorated. Before, Kanan had endured each painful day with the belief that death would soon claim him due to his perceived uselessness. Now, he found himself staring into an abyss of uncertainty. He was not to be killed; he was to be broken, molded into one of the Inquisitors. Kanan understood the reason behind this decision—his connection to his crew and their association with Ahsoka made him the perfect bait.

"There is no hope," the small voice persisted, its insidious tone causing Kanan to sigh heavily. He raised his gaze toward the ceiling, fighting against the frog in his throat. The sounds outside his cell abruptly captured his attention, diverting his focus from the haunting voice within.

It couldn't be... Stretching out with his senses, Kanan sought the familiar Force signature amidst the suffocating darkness, but..

Ezra's voice, filled with determination and defiance, echoed through the corridor.

"No," Kanan whispered in disbelief and lost focus as thick fog of panic overwhelmed his senses.

No. No no no.

"You will take me to Kanan Jarrus." Ezra's voice commanded sharply.

"That won't work on us, kid." A cold answer from a trooper.

Then an amused laugh from the Grand Inquisitor. "You will see your master soon enough."

The heavy doors swung open, revealing the Grand Inquisitor and the troopers. Ezra's eyes widened as he spotted Kanan, his voice filled with relief. "Kanan!"

The Grand Inquisitor's sly smile twisted into a mocking grin. "Ah, Kanan Jarrus, our heroic Jedi master. Your padawan has been quite resourceful, breaking into our secured facilities to find you."

Meeting Ezra's gaze, Kanan saw relief flooding the young boy's face, mingled with a sense of urgency.

A surge of pride and concern welled up within Kanan. Ezra's gone to such lengths to save him? Doubts flitted through his mind, but the profound connection and familiarity that flowed between them dispelled any skepticism as their eyes locked in a steadfast gaze.

Fear consumed Kanan's being as desperation laced his voice. "What are you doing here?" he pleaded, struggling against the restraints that held him in place.

Ezra made to move towards Kanan, but the two Purge Troopers grasped his arms and held him back.

The Grand Inquisitor's voice dripped with sadistic satisfaction as he walked closer to Ezra. "Unfortunately, Kanan, your apprentice's bravery comes at a price," He paused and extended his hand towards one of the troopers and the armored soldier placed his electric baton in it.

Kanan growled urgently, his body contorting in a futile attempt to break free from the restraints, but he only managed to bruise himself.

The Inquisitor smiled and activated the baton. He spoke to Ezra. "It looks like your master doesn't wish to save you, boy."

"No!" Kanan yelled when the dark sider raised his hand. With a swift motion, he struck the boy, causing him to stagger and cry out in pain. In that moment, Kanan's crumbling walls collapsed, his heart overriding his logic with a single desperate goal.

Summoning every ounce of strength he had left within him, Kanan broke free from the chair, and hurled the Grand Inquisitor together with the Purge Troopers aside as he rushed toward Ezra. But as Kanan reached out to embrace the boy, his arms closed around empty air.

The illusion shattered before his eyes, leaving only a haunting void.

The Grand Inquisitor's laughter echoed through the cell.

Realization washed over Kanan like a chilling wave. He had been played. The weight of his failure settled upon his shoulders, crushing his spirit and extinguishing the fight within him.

Before Kanan could react, the Grand Inquisitor exerted a powerful Force push, slamming him against the cold floor, rendering him motionless once again. The Inquisitor knelt beside him, his gaze burning with sadistic pleasure.

"Come now, Kanan," the Inquisitor taunted, his voice filled with malice. "Where's that charming smile of yours?" Kanan fought to calm his rapid breathing, his lips trembling into a thin line. The metallic scent of the cell invaded his nostrils as the Inquisitor continued to press him down.

He lost. He did exactly what the Inquisitor wanted and expected. He suddenly noticed how cold he felt, as if he just emerged from an icy pond…

In a moment of overwhelming vulnerability, Kanan flinched as the Inquisitor activated his crimson lightsaber, bringing it dangerously close to his face. Heat emanated from the blade, uncomfortably close to Kanan's skin.

A hand landed on the side of Kanan's head, tugging at his hair, still tied in a ponytail. The grip tightened, digging into his skin as the Inquisitor forced his head up, drawing it nearer to the blade.

Leaning forward, the Grand Inquisitor hissed into Kanan's ear, his voice laced with triumph. "You see, Kanan," he whispered, relishing in his victory. "You are not special. Everyone breaks within the walls of Fortress Inquisitorius, and you are no exception. You're just like the rest of us."

He let him go and the two imposing Purge Troopers forcibly lifted Kanan from the ground, dragging him back to the interrogation chair, strapping him in once again.

The Grand Inquisitor approached Kanan, his eyes burning with a sadistic fire. "Use the dark side, Kanan," he demanded, his voice dripping with malice. "Free yourself and embrace the power that awaits you."

Kanan clenched his jaw, his eyes filled with unwavering resolve and loathing. "No," he declared, the simple word filled with defiance.

The Grand Inquisitor's face twisted into a cruel smile. He retrieved the electro baton and pressed it against Kanan's chest. Agonizing pain coursed through his body and he screamed and the longer the pain lasted, the more did the scream sounded like an agonized wail followed unwittingly by tears. From the pain or for the shame of how easily he let himself be tricked, for himself...

The Inquisitor removed the baton.

Kanan took a long desperate breath, shaking from exhaustion. The Grand Inquisitor gripped Kanan's chin, his grip tightening with every word. "You are a fool, Kanan Jarrus," he sneered and forced the jedi to look him in the eye. "You will break, just like all the others, it's only a matter of time. And when you do, I will revel in your defeat."

He let him go, tossing the baton aside, waving his hand towards the electric torture device connected to the chair itself.

The excruciating pain wracked Kanan's body, his screams reverberating through the walls of the fortress.

TBC...

#star wars #star wars fanart #star wars rebels #kanan jarrus #swr fanart #artists on tumblr #art #digital art #fanart #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #swr fanfic #kanan jarrus fanfiction #tw torture #tw psychological torture #tw electrocution #dark side #i need to write or draw something light-hearted after this this was exhausting :')#inquisitor!kanan au

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priestessofcreation · 6 months

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So yes I am fearful avoidant. And I am afraid of love - of being manipulated, of being abused, if not loving the person the right way, the good way, the kind way, the correct way. I’m afraid of using the other person. I’m afraid of being the abuser. I’m afraid of a trauma bond. I’m afraid of it not being real, of it not going anywhere. I’m afraid of being used, and abandoned, and discarded. I’m afraid of fucking it up, of it going belly-up.

I’m afraid I’ll mess it up. I’m afraid I’ll be broken down. I’m afraid I’ll be stripped of my sense of self. I’m afraid I’ll be psychologically tortured.

I’m afraid… I won’t be loved the right way. And it won’t be safe. And I’ll love someone who gutted me.

That is my worst nightmare romantically

#love #relationships #tw abuse #tw psychological torture #fearful avoidant #disorganized attachment

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montammil · 10 months

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Whump - clinical trials

TW: Medical whump, doctor whumper, drug trials, surgical trials, psychological trials, gaslighting, manipulation, carewhumper doctor (for surgical trial part), creepy Whumper

Whumpee is in a desperate financial situation, so they decide to volunteer for some clinical/medical trials. The riskier and longer, the more money, so they think it’s worth it, only to realize they’re wrong too late.

BUT what kind of clinical trials would they do?

Imagine drug trials. Whumper intentionally giving them too many, hurting them, threatening them, teasing them, because no one will believe Whumpee, it’s just the drugs. And Whumper will often make it clear Whumpee is too delirious to go home, but they so kindly offer to keep watch of them for the night, much to Whumpee’s horror.

Imagine behavioral/psychological trials. But it’s much darker than it is in reality. Whumpee thinks everything will be fine, just some psychotherapy and behavioral interventions, but it’s anything but that. They didn’t read over the contract, and basically just volunteered to be put through various methods of psychological torture.

Imagine surgical trials. Maybe Whumpee has some kind of condition that has no known cure and it’s a last resort, or maybe Whumpee isn’t even human and is volunteering to be a guinea pig for the large amounts of money. Whumper ends up taking a liking to Whumpee, and Whumpee also fails to read through the entire contract. So Whumper purposefully makes the surgeries more painful and invasive, loving the dependence Whumpee has on them.

And Whumpee is none the wiser, thinking Whumper is just a good person trying to help them out. When Whumper makes up more reasons why surgeries need to be preformed, Whumpee doesn’t question it. When Whumper makes Whumpee’s state worse than when they came in, Whumpee believes it’s all part of the process.

...and when Whumpee starts questioning everything, Whumper decides it’s time to move onto more permanent surgeries, not wanting to risk losing their dependence on them.

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fandomtransmandom · 2 years

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ninjagracee · 5 months

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what’s ur favorite scenario to dream about with mtsk and death (kou dying, specifically)

YOU. YOU GET ME.

i’m gonna start this off with saying that kou minamoto is literally my favorite character ever so don’t think i’m doing this because i hate him i just think about him way too much and this is where i end up after thinking for too long

i have SO MUCH to say about this but i’m gonna throw it under the cut bc i don’t wanna catch ppl off guard with my insane bullshit

if ur reading this and u get upset it’s ur own fault /hj

alright SO

first off kou definitely should’ve died during the pp arc just for shits and giggles. it would’ve been like a “what the fuck just happened” for every character and the whole fandom and the chaos that would’ve ensued from the death of a major character would’ve been absolutely WILD- like bitch just killed himself. he straight up committed suicide. there’s no way of rephrasing that bc that’s what he did. it would’ve been a plot-shattering moment and really just heartbreaking and awful and aidairo could’ve done so much with it.

for one, mitsuba would’ve been very Not Ok because he would’ve blamed himself for kou dying and he’d definitely try to gaslight himself into believing kou was still alive- that would not work btw he’d just be in insane denial

anyway imma move on from that arc even though i could go into it so much deeper and focus on things that i could see happening just to make the story hella interesting (i’ve been very tempted to write a fic about this so beware)

i think the most likely ways kou would die would either be suicide or being killed by tsukasa. we’ve already seen him attempt to kill himself, thwarted by mitsuba then brushed aside for some reason, and i’m about to do a full ass analysis on why tsukasa should murder our boy :3

reiterating that I LOVE KOU MINAMOTO WITH MY WHOLE HEART HES PERFECT

okay so tsukasa. hes a silly guy. one of his main traits is he loves to fuck with people, right? right yeah whatever get to the point IM WORKING ON IT ok sorry anyway he’s silly right. he thrives off fucking people up as much as possible. since he knows fucking everything i’m gonna assume he knows how important kou is to mitsuba and, given the fact that it’s so easy to fuck with mitsuba, he’d know that messing with kou in some way would make the biggest impact. every way he messes up mitsuba’s (after)life doesn’t emotionally impact him for too long, given the fact that he and kou with it out every time. but what happens when we take out the support system? that’s what we wanna know.

so ofc tsukasa feels all silly goofy and takes out kou just for funzies. mitsuba is absolutely fucking destroyed in every way. he blames himself, duh. this splits off into 2 possible scenarios that i’ve created lol.

possibility one: mitsuba stays in his boundary for god knows how long, refusing to talk to anyone. eventually he goes to shijima, begging for a replacement kou. even if hes fake, it’s better than nothing, right? shijima understood his grief, in a way. so, she gave in. boom. kou copy. the rest was none of her business.

kou copy only knows what shijima knows about him, so let’s go with everything up until the end of the picture perfect arc. he has no idea about anything after, including the aquarium date, the far shore incident, and the supernaturals being banished from the near shore in the first place, and it’s fine that way. …right? well, that means he also doesn’t know that he’s supposed to be dead.

he keeps asking mitsuba when he can leave the boundary and go home, when he can go see senpai, when he can see his brother, and he’s very upset. mitsuba has no idea what to do. he was overjoyed to have his crush best friend back that he didn’t even think of what would happen after… he couldn’t let kou out of the boundary. that was out of the question. keeping kou here would make him miserable and make him hate mitsuba. so at this point they’re stuck in a cycle of shouting matches of wether or not kou is allowed to leave, periods of silence, and occasional truces because they both need someone to keep them sane, and who else can do it but each other?

possibly 2: supernaturals are a thing in this world, so why can’t kou be one too? even though tsukasa is the one who killed kou in the first place, mitsuba begs him to bring kou back, to make kou a supernatural just like mitsuba. mitsuba knows what being a supernatural feels like. he knows that just letting kou go would be so much better for the dumb blonde boy. he knows that kou deserves better than to be forced to live in a world that doesn’t want him anymore. but mitsuba is selfish. so tsukasa makes kou into a supernatural. for funzies, you know? he’d never worked with a human corpse before, so why not try out making one into a supernatural?

the process of making a supernatural is… messy. mitsuba now knows this, as he couldn’t look away from his boyfriend being made into one. it was horrific. i’m not gonna delve into it because i really don’t wanna think about that i’m so sorry my poor baby

just like with mitsuba, tsukasa didn’t have kou’s actual soul to work with, just supernatural parts and kou’s body. it was simply an animated puppet that looked like kou minamoto. “it’s fine,” mitsuba said, “it’s okay, he’s back, that what matters, right?” “it’ll be fine, right minamoto?” and as he looks to kou for support, all he gets in response is a blank look. he realizes, after staring in horror at the jagged scar on kou’s neck, that his vocal chords are absolutely fucked up beyond repair. he’d never hear kou’s voice again.

thanks for reading and i’m so sorry <3

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absolute-flaming-trash · 2 years

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“Come now, you can beg better than that.” W sukuna or Choso

Okay I know I said I didn't feel comfortable writing for any of the canon minors on my blog, but since it isn't Yuji being the yandere here, I feel like this is still okay when it comes to my moral compass.

Plus fuck it, who knows if my stance will change over time.

Warnings: Allusions to future noncon, Allusions to future kidnapping, Sleep deprivation, Psychological torture. Not edited.

Word Count: 501

Being Sukuna’s vessel was not the easiest thing at the best of times.

It was a difficult thing, having something inside you with unlimited access to your deepest thoughts and emotions. It was something the King of Curses took advantage of on the regular, tormenting Yuji with his deepest and darkest secrets whenever he felt bored. It took some getting used to, and eventually Yuji was able to block it out the majority of the time.

However the one thing he would never get used to was the fact this connection went both ways.

The morbid curiosity got to him in the beginning and he allowed himself to look into the reaches of Sukuna’s soul only to regret it immensely and receive several detailed death threats from the Curse himself - most of which detailed what he would do once he had his own body.

These visions and thoughts paled in comparison the day he met you, though.

You were unassuming little thing - a bystander in the chaos of a Level 2 Curse wreaking havoc in an old set of apartment buildings that was easily taken care of by Yuji, Megumi and Nobara, but the short interaction you had with the three of them was enough to set something off with the King of Curses.

To put it plainly, he was revolting. Revolting in his descriptions of what he wanted to do to you, and what he would have done if you were around when he was worshiped as the God that he was.

It was never ending, and only increased in intensity and detail once Sukuna discovered just how much it bothered the young curse user.

The usual techniques he would use to shut Sukuna out became useless, and he found himself losing sleep at night listening to the horrific details of your potential capture and deflowering once Sukuna had a body of his own, and that it wasn’t a matter of if, but when it would happen to you.

A horrible part of Yuji’s mind began to take an interest in what the King of Curses was saying, and this was only used to further add to his torture once Sukuna caught wind of it. It just made his determination to find all the fingers and destroy this awful Curse for good all the more stronger.

But god, a decent night’s rest was something he would’ve sold his soul for if it wasn’t entangled with such a monster.

Eventually he broke. Sobbing into a pillow as he begged Sukuna to shut up and give him a break from the detailed descriptions of defiling you within an inch of your life. He would do anything, would make any deal, even let him have 5 minutes of free reign with his body if he could just sleep.

He was only met with a howl of taunting laughter he had grown oh-so familiar with followed by a phrase that would soon become just as familiar. “Come now, you can beg better than that.”

#riri writes #600 followers event #Sukuna x Reader #Sukuna #JJK #Jujutsu Kaisen #Ryomen Sukuna #Ryomen Sukuna x Reader #tw yandere #tw future noncon #tw future kidnapping #tw sleep deprivation #tw psychological torture #love my moots #sweet shadow

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asteral-feileacan · 1 month

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Several days after Dale Cooper entered the Black Lodge, he returned. Two weeks later, Annie goes missing, and Harry is beginning to suspect that the man who left Glastonbury Grove was not his friend. Can the real Cooper find his way back to the light?

AU of Twin Peaks S2 finale.

#twin peaks #fanfiction #tw psychological torture #dale cooper #harry truman #annie blackburn

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moondragon618 · 8 months

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hello moon! For the writing prompts, it’d be really cool if you could write “forced family” from the other section with your shapeshifter au? That au literally makes me go insane lmao/pos

HI SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER LMAO anyway. Today being the anniversary of Boundless Sands gave me a sudden burst of motivation to finish this bc it in fact takes place right after Boundless Sands lol. Anyway I'm very excited about this one :)

Warnings for abuse, psychological torture, lots of psychological horror in general, graphic depictions of violence, blood, strangulation, obsessive/possessive behavior, flashbacks, murder, and gaslighting.

Tommy can feel a bit of a chill creeping in as he stares blankly out at the sea, and he shivers. The rain has let up a bit, but it's well after dark now and the temperature has dropped since the sun set.

He knows he should really get home and dry off, but he can't quite bring himself to leave.

It's a familiar feeling, standing on the beach while shivering and wet, alone and abandoned and forgotten.

His sobs have quieted down to silent tears already, the feeling of having his heart ripped out having faded to numbness.

Wilbur is gone. Wilbur left him. He's alone.

Tommy tears his eyes away from the ocean for a moment, his eyes catching on his diamond sword left abandoned nearby. He should probably go get that- he had it for a reason after all, it's dangerous for him to be without a weapon anymore- but the thought of holding it again makes his stomach twist.

The rain has washed off the small amount of blood that ended up on the blade, but it's burned into his memory regardless- the fear in his brother's eyes, the terror as he clutched the bleeding cut in his arm and begged for Tommy to stop-

Maybe Wilbur is better off without him.

His vision blurs again as he stares at the sword, and he feels tears run down his face again- but he's snapped out of his thoughts suddenly when he hears a voice right behind him-

"Tommy?"

Wilbur's voice. It hits him with a wave of relief and hopefulness and comfort before he can even think- But Wilbur is gone.

That isn't Wilbur.

The emotional whiplash is dizzying as his blood goes cold with terror, and he instinctively scrambles for the diamond sword before turning around, only to find-

Wilbur. But he's too smug and overconfident, too menacing, with a grin of twisted amusement he knows all too well that doesn't belong on his brother's face-

"Aww, Tommy, did your 'big brother' finally leave you again?" the nightmarish imitation of his brother says, in a taunting lilt that sounds absolutely wrong in Wilbur's voice.

Tommy shudders and steps back, trying not to show the stab of grief he feels at the taunt, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword and holding it up defensively.

"F-fuck you, fuck you Dream," he growls, glaring at the shapeshifter, his breathing shaky with anger and revulsion. "Y-you- S-stop doing that right now or I will fucking kill you!"

"Oh, will you, Tommy?" Wilbur Dream says, grinning even more as he steps closer, causing Tommy to flinch. "Then kill me, Tommy. Go ahead, now's your chance, right?"

Tommy shivers, chills running down his spine. Dream is toying with him, he knows that all too well. But he's also not wearing armor, and if there's even a chance that Dream is confident enough to have his guard down right now, he needs to take it.

But it's like he's frozen in place, and the more he wills himself to do anything, the more his hands start to shake.

(Tommy, I don't want you to be the one to do this, don't- Put the sword down-)

"Aw, Tommy, you're hesitating," Dream taunts him, moving closer until the end of the diamond sword is just inches away from him- wrong wrong wrong- "C'mon, I'm giving you the perfect opportunity to rid the server of me for good! Go ahead and kill me, little hero."

(Phil, kill me, kill me Phil-)

Tommy steps back almost reflexively, his hands trembling and his breathing shaky and erratic. He feels sick. It's bad enough having to deal with Dream using that nickname like it was always his, but hearing it in that voice again- the familiarity of it, the way it sounds so natural even in that mocking tone-

(It brings back memories of buttons and dimly lit ravine walls-)

"S-shut up, s-shut-" he whimpers, his voice breaking, getting louder and more desperate as his vision starts to blur with tears. "S-stop it, stop- s-stop fucking doing that STOP IT-"

Suddenly, Tommy is pulled into a hug that feels instantly familiar to him, and for a brief second he almost feels safe- but it's a little too tight, too suffocating, too possessive-

"Shh, it's okay, Tommy. It'll be okay," he hears Wilbur's voice say, soft and and soothing as he gently runs a hand through Tommy's hair, and almost instinctively he drops the sword with a shaky sob and clings to his brother for comfort- no, no no no not his brother it's not Wilbur it's Dream-

Then he hears Wil Dream give him an amused chuckle, the sound of it in his brother's voice sending chills down his spine- wrong wrong wrong-

"Aww, Tommy, you really can't bring yourself to hurt your beloved 'big brother'?" the shapeshifter taunts, a mocking grin audible in his voice as he playfully tugs at Tommy's white streak. "You sure didn't seem to have a problem with it earlier, you know. How did it feel to have him begging you for mercy?"

Tommy shudders, his gut twisting in guilt and horror again.

"No n-no f-fuck you, I-" he stutters between shaky breaths, shuddering as he's hit with the urge to get away. "L-let go of me let go of me-"

He struggles and then manages to twist his way out of the shapeshifter's hold, his blood running cold right after as he realizes he's defenseless, his sword laying right next to Dream where he dropped it earlier- fuck fuck why did he do that-

Dream seems to take notice of Tommy's panic, chuckling in amusement and making a show of picking the sword up and examining it as if to taunt him.

"C'mon Tommy, don't be like that," Dream chides him, carefully running a finger along the blade of the sword. Then he looks at Tommy with an expression that's far too familiar on his brother's face, fondness creeping into his tone. "I'm actually kind of proud, you know?"

The warmth and comfort Tommy feels at the sound of those words in Wilbur's voice is immediate even despite his guilt and horror, and to his dismay, reminding himself that this is Dream only makes it worse- it just makes him more aware of the smell of saltwater and the sound of the ocean nearby, bringing back memories of TNT and-

He did good Dream is happy with him he did good-

He's startled out of his thoughts suddenly when he notices Dream is moving towards him, causing him to flinch away instinctively.

"Oh, Tommy~" Dream taunts him, the sound of that teasing lilt in Wilbur's voice making him feel nauseous.

"G-get away from me-" Tommy whimpers, a chill running down his spine at the sight of his brother Dream grinning with twisted amusement, and he shivers as he takes a step back.

Then he reaches toward Tommy, causing him to flinch away with a terrified whine, his hands going up reflexively to protect himself- only for Dream to catch one of his wrists and not let go.

"You can't get away, little hero~" Wil Dream taunts, squeezing Tommy's wrist in a bruising grip, causing him to let out a pained whimper.

It's not Wilbur. His brother would never hurt him like this it's not Wilbur it's not-

"L-let- let go of me r-right now-" he demands, struggling to keep his voice steady despite the sickening horror he feels as he looks fearfully up at his brother Dream.

"Oh?" Dream tugs him a little closer with an amused chuckle, grinning wide with unhinged glee, and suddenly Tommy can feel the tip of the sword against his throat, digging right into the scar from his first death. "Or what, Tommy?"

He freezes, pure terror rushing through him and phantom pain burning across his neck, reminding him of blackstone and screaming and the smell of blood-

"N-nothing- nothing p-please please Wi- D-Dream I'm s-sorry-" he pleads, the reality of how trapped and helpless he is crashing into him all at once.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Tommy," Wilbur- no, Dream says, his tone sickeningly sweet. He presses the blade in just a little further, and Tommy shudders as he feels the skin break and a warm drop of blood run down his neck. "C'mon, you should know that by now, little hero."

"N-no please-" Tommy whimpers, the familiar words sending a wave of shame and horror through him.

Then, before he can even process what's happening, the blade against his throat is gone. And Tommy suddenly feels the sickening sensation of something piercing through his stomach followed by agonizing, blinding pain.

He lets out a strangle whine, collapsing into Wilbur- no, Dream... right?- as soon as the sword is pulled out of him, and he can feel warm blood flowing freely from the wound in his stomach.

A pair of arms wraps around him and then carefully lowers him to the ground, and he lets out an agonized yelp as the movement causes him to feel like he's being stabbed all over again.

"Shhh, it's okay Tommy, just focus on me, okay?" he hears in Wilbur's voice, and when he looks up, he can see his brother looking down at him with a grin. He doesn't know if he should feel safe or terrified.

Wait, what was he supposed to remember about Dream again?

Was it Dream or Wilbur that just hurt him?

"Wil?" Tommy asks shakily, and it feels wrong somehow, but it's hard to think through the pain and the rapid blood loss, his mind a clouded, confusing mess.

"That's right, Tommy. I'm right here," Wilbur says, grinning with amusement- wrong wrong WRONG- and he instantly feels calmer, safer.

Wilbur is going to help him, right?

But then, suddenly, there's hands around his throat, tightening until he's struggling to breathe- and it's too familiar, reminding him of obsidian and lava and Dream-

"W-Wil?" Tommy whimpers, grasping at his brother's hands, fear tearing through his chest as he starts gasping for air. "N-nono W-Wilbur- p-please- s-stop-"

"Shhh, just relax, Tommy. It'll be over soon," Wilbur shushes him, the twisted amusement audible in his tone and visible in his expression sending a cold, horrified chill down Tommy's spine.

"W-why-" he barely manages to whimper before suddenly he can't breathe at all, and his scrabbling at the hands around his throat becomes desperate clawing.

But it doesn't take long for his struggles to weaken, for his vision to start going dark, for his thoughts to quiet and his terror to fade...

...

Then, nothing.

He's nowhere, surrounded by a familiar empty void. His heart has gone still. He's breathing, but it's mostly by instinct- there's no air here, and he doesn't need it anyway.

There's no pain, only numbness and a feeling of being perpetually shattered. He hasn't forgotten that, either.

Then there's the sensation of being pulled, of his pieces being forced back together even if they no longer fit, and it hurts-

Suddenly, he's alive again- like waking up from a dream, but far more overwhelming as his senses return in full force, his entire body tingling almost painfully as the feeling comes back, and even more disorienting as he struggles to remember what happened.

He died. He died again. Wilbur- Wilbur killed him- no, no not Wilbur Dream killed him-

Right?

"Tommy? You back with me?" he hears, and this time it's Dream's voice, sounding almost genuinely concerned.

Tommy sits up suddenly, trying to ignore the dizziness that causes, looking around in a panic, flinching when he sees Dream- not Wilbur it's just Dream- kneeling right next to him.

It's still unsettling as all hell, the way his hair always has slightly more curls than normal ever since exile, the shade of blonde a bit lighter, his nose a little rounder, even the eerie green glow of his eyes seems to have a blueish tinge- but at least it's just Dream, not anyone else-

No, Dream killed him, Wilbur is gone it had to have been Dream-

"N-no, nono s-stay back-" Tommy stutters as he tries to scramble away from the shapeshifter, fear rushing through him again.

"Tommy, relax. I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise," Dream chuckles, watching his reaction with amusement.

"Y-you just fucking killed me!" Tommy yells in disbelief, shaking and breathing rapidly.

"Oh, but Tommy," Dream says with a questioning tilt of his head, almost teasingly. "Was it really me?"

"F-fuck you- f-fuck you I- I know it was y-you-" Tommy shouts, but even as he says it, some part of him remains unsure-

What if dying and being revived fucked with his memories?

What if Wilbur didn't actually leave and Dream was never there and his brain just made all that up because he couldn't accept that Wilbur would hurt him like that-

"It- it h-had to have been you-" he whines, curling into himself to try and hide the tears forming in his eyes.

Then he flinches as he feels arms around him, pulling him into a hug-

"Shh, you're safe now, Tommy. I've got you," he hears Dream say, and he almost relaxes into it in his desperation for comfort. "You don't even need Wilbur, because you have me."

Tommy freezes. 'Really?' a small part of him wants to ask as it lights up at what Dream is implying, but he shoves it down as best he can.

"N-no, no y-you're- you're not my brother-" he whimpers, shuddering as he tries not to show any uncertainty. "Y-you're not Wilbur, you'll never be Wilbur-"

Dream will never leave him. Dream will protect him-

"Oh, Tommy. You're right, y'know?" Dream says, his voice soothing as he starts to gently run a hand through Tommy's curls. "But maybe that's a good thing, my little hero. Maybe I'm better than him. Don't you want a big brother who won't ever leave you, Tommy?"

Tommy just shivers, slowly melting into the comforting touch.

"Y-you're n-not-" he whimpers, cut off by a shuddering sob as something inside of him breaks and he clings desperately to his brother Dream, hugging him back tightly.

"There you go, Tommy. It's okay, just let it out," Dream comforts him, hugging him a little tighter, amusement and fondness in his voice as he continues. "You're safe with me, little brother."

Tommy doesn't even try to dispute him anymore, just soaking up the only affection he's probably going to get from now on. Because everyone else leaves him, but Dream never does.

He's safe with Dream.

#my writing #ask #mumza-superiority #shapeshifter c!dream #dream smp #dsmp #c!tommy #c!dream #c!primeboys #c!discduo #tw abuse #tw blood #tw psychological torture #tw murder #tw strangulation #tw obsessive behavior #tw possessive behavior #tw flashbacks #tw gaslighting

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proudfreakmetarusonniku · 11 months

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god… thinking about how horrifying it’d be if c!tommy was c!dream’s prophet. like. imagine you’re a very religious kid, and you meet your god and he blesses you with visions. you hear his voice in your head, you see visions of the future and have beautiful paradisal dreams and you’re in constant contact with your beloved god. he tells you secrets freely to lead people in grace and righteousness. you never need to think, you’re guided every day by your god, given visions of truth and the future and simply comfort and beauty in the dream-world. after all, there is no need for pain or suffering in a dream, in a revelation.

and then your god grows crueller. more possessive. and as you try to leave, your visions slowly and slowly grow to be a curse. you stop getting visions of the future that allow you to help, but endless visions of the horrific fates that await everyone you love and everywhere you love. you’re given half truths and lies as revelations that all try and force you to stay, stay, stay. the dreams you had with your god, laughing and revelling in paradise, become torturous. after all, it’s not like you can die in a dream. nothing carries over, and minutes drag on like hours. you try not to sleep, but visions invade your waking days, the most horrific things done in the world playing constantly, desperate pleas that are not your own clawing their way out of your mouth. you black out and wake up with religious symbols written on your walls with blood, nonsense scribbled in notes like a parody of a bible.

being the conduit of a god you love is holy. being the conduit of a god who’s love is not reciprocated is hell.

#srry. c!prime thoughts #dream smp #Primeboys (derogatory)#tw religious themes #tw abuse #tw posession #tw manipulation #tw psychological torture

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cutelittlevamp · 2 years

Note

Almost last year I asked for a hades yabdere headcannons and.., quite honestly i've been smiling ever since, you made me feel so valid for liking that frumpy old man! Im back again, cuz i was rereading again those hcs and im tempted to ask... what do you think would happen after their darling returns? (assuming darling managed to escape his realm but then died of natural causes or something), im sure Hades would make sure charon delivers her directly to him- maybe to get punished- maybe?

Hey Anon^^

I'm happy to hear from you again and hope you've been well :) also, I hope you'll like these headcanons, too

I originally wanted to write something different but then decided that I wanted to keep it all more personal, like, more between the darling and Hades with almost no one else included

Stay healthy^^

First ask here

______________________________________________________________

Oh, my. The poor thing. It was bound to happen eventually but, well, you died. You are definitely screwed now

You know that feeling you get when you look at someone and they have a rather … unreadable/monotone expression but you can just tell that if they were to show their emotions openly there’d be this smug grin on their face? That is totally the feeling you get when you stand in front of him again

The room temperature seemed to drop and you felt as if even Charon looked at you with pity in his eyes before he left

Did you expect him to torture you? He wouldn’t. That’s definitely beneath him

Punishment? Oh, yes sweety. Maybe not in the way you expected though

He didn’t even lecture you. Simply stating “Was that really worth all the hassle?” before going back to work

Do not think that was all though. Oh no. That wasn’t even the real beginning

He’ll have you standing - and I mean standing, no sitting down for you at all - for the whole period of time he’s working. No walking around, no talking. Simply stand there in your designated spot and do literally nothing more than watch him work

You better not try to move or dare to fall asleep - lucky for you Hypnos likes you and helps to keep you awake by denying you sleep

It gets worse if you do anything else than just stand there and behave like a statue

Not going into any details here, but hey, you’re already dead right? It’s not like he could kill you again and even if he did, what would it change? Nothing. Not for him, at least

You don’t know how long that goes on before you start to wish he’d scream at you, hit you, do anything at all actually

It’s not that long after that thought occured that you start to try and please him any chance you get when you’re not supposed to stand next to him

Will you start begging? Maybe. Everything is better than being ignored

He knew that you’d soon break under the pressure

Surely there’s no way you’ll misbehave like that ever again - you can’t leave anymore after all - but Hades is just making sure you’re not getting any wrong ideas

He did torture you after all. Just not in a physical way

“I love you, my dear. It would deeply hurt me to see your beautiful face in pain.”

#anon ask #ask response #ask #yandere headcanons #yandere hades game #hades #hades game #yandere hades #tw yandere #tw psychological torture #yandere hades x reader #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere

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1kroolkroc · 8 months

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a fresh batch of king k. rool headcanons coming right up!!!

Today is the 5th anniversary of King K. Rool’s debut in Smash Bros., so to celebrate this awesome occasion, I wrote a few hcs about him! I hope you enjoy!

All of the different outfits we see King K. Rool wear in each game, he hand-stitched them all himself. His favorite out of all of them was the cape, with his pirate coat being his second favorite.

He used to be heavily involved in theater, before he even started his rivalry with the Kong family.

He’d rather not be in a play at all, than ever be casted as a background character or even a side character. In his mind, he was born to be the lead actor.

He knows about 3,500 different ways to physically torture someone and several more different ways to psychologically torture someone.

The reason he doesn’t like Bowser is because he thinks Bowser is too soft on his minions

He isn’t much of a romantic at all. He’s a career-first kind of guy (or, kingdom-first, in his case)

Even though it may not seem like it, he really loves physical affection. If you pet him, give him snout scritches, or even neck scritches, he’ll pretty much like you.

If he ever successfully managed to destroy or take over DK Island, he’d set his sights for another kingdom next.

He doesn’t have hair to flip, so he flips his cape instead.

He’s terrified of being forgotten and would rather die in the most glorious fashion than live longer at the cost of being forgotten about.

#king k rool #king k. rool #k rool #k. rool #character headcanons #tw death mention #tw torture mention #tw psychological torture

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and-stir-the-stars · 11 months

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Dire Consequences: Five Minutes 'Til

Summary:

Evan's ghost has been trapped alone inside Fredbear's pizzeria for over a decade. When Mike stumbles into the pizzeria, Evan traps him there so they can be happy together, forever. The only problem: Evan has been dead for so long that he doesn't understand human concepts like pain, sickness, or starvation.

After eating Evan's rotten "birthday cake," Michael gets sick, and Evan decides his big brother needs a doctor.

word count: 8,491

trigger warnings: vomiting, body horror, body mutilation, torture, psychological torture, illness, delusions, gore, character death, blood, starvation, dehydration

#kats scribbles #dire consequences au #evan afton #michael afton #the crying child #cc afton #tw body horror #tw torture #being cruel to mikey again #fnaf #fnaf fic #fnaf au #tw psychological torture #tw blood #tw abuse

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montammil · 1 year

Note

what's this little white room entail for the whumpee 👀👀? on that note, may we get some examples of her whump methods? she is lowkey becoming my favorite 👀👀

I'm glad you like her, you might be her first fan then lol!!

TW: Various methods of psychological torture, female Whumper

For the white room, she considers that the worse. She's never experienced it, but she can assume it's pretty awful because all her past whumpees spent one to two weeks there and came out different.

Sometimes it leaves long-term impacts, other times they can snap themselves back into their old, defiant personalities, but either way, it certainly makes them regret attempting escape and lessens the chance of them trying anything like that soon.

She only uses the white room for escape attempts since she herself doesn't like putting her whumpee/s in there, because she gets bored just watching them on cameras.

Now onto her torture methods...

Exploitation to phobias. Her favorites to exploit is hypochondria because she'll drug the whumpee to imitate illness and take care of them, all while Whumpee is panicking over their sickness. She thinks it's cute.

Mock executions. She's newer to this method but she loves it. She loves making Whumpee think they're going to die, anticipating the horror to hysterical relief they'd feel.

Gaslighting. This one isn't really torture, but she adores it when Whumpee believes her in untrue things, it makes her feel more in power-- especially if it's over something super nonsensical.

Sleep deprivation. She has a shock collar that shocks Whumpee every ten or so minutes, especially when she's asleep. The shock collar would look more like a fancy necklace.

Sensory deprivation. If she's feeling really sadistic, she might lock Whumpee up and put a blindfold and noise-cancelling headphones on them, as well as tie them up.

Various threats of hurting Whumpee/Whumpee's family. She doesn't plan on actually doing anything to Whumpee's family, but she isn't above physical violence. She just prefers not to get her hands dirty.

#answered ask #charlotte oc #tw psychological torture #creepy/intimate whumper

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super-nova5045 · 2 years

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so i wrote down all of will's traumas, and he has TWENTY SIX traumatic events occur in his life...mane.

(MAJOR tw for mentions of psychological torture, SA, r*pe, suicide)

Will’s trauma:

Non-UD related:

Abusive father

Divorced parents

Bullied at school

Lower class

Gay in the peak of the AIDS pandemic, in a small conservative town

In love with his best friend

Ignored by best friend

Is canonly suicidal/willing to die at TWELVE and has PTSD (?)

Survived a shootout

Had to stop the bleeding of a dying man in a high-speed chase

Buried a dead body

Destroyed his safe space

Canonly has panic attacks

Best friend, who he’s in love with, said to his sister “my life started the day we found you in the woods” also the day he WENT MISSING

UD related:

Kidnapped and stalked

Stayed with a man while he was dying in the UD

Hunted for a week in a catastrophic dimension, extremely terrified

Possessed by a literal monster

Psychologically tortured/mind r*ped

Burnt alive

Forced to kill 35+ people brutally, including his mother’s boyfriend and one of the only positive father figures in his life

Almost killed his mother, brother, love of his life and friends

SA’D by monsters

Hunted by literal supernatural monsters

Haunted by literal supernatural monsters (spidey sense)

Locked in a mall with a flesh monster prepared to kill him/targeting him in a way, has a panic attack

will's been through it fr 💀

#will byers #tw suicide #tw rape #tw SA #tw psychological torture #stranger things #byler #my poor will :(((

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purefandomonium · 9 months

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And Again

As promised, my other Glitchy Red AU. I'll post some headcanons for it too, but essentially this is my take on when Red became self-aware. I'll put some more details about it at the very bottom because I think knowing them beforehand kind of ruins it a bit.

I'd also like to warn people that this does get a little dark and there is some violence and slight gore in there.

This is a long one at almost 5,000 words, so you best be settled in for a minute, lol.

Getting the badge didn’t feel so special. Instead, the whole ordeal felt rather dull. He’d been so excited leading up to the battle, so focused on building up his team and figuring out strategies. This was his first real step towards becoming the Champion!

So why did the battle with Brock feel so… scripted? It was challenging, sure, but it also seemed easy compared to what he was thinking. Despite the disadvantages he had with a few of his picks he could still work out a winning strategy.

Did Brock let him win?

The gym leader revealed none of this to Red despite his repeated attempts to ask. He simply gave him a congratulations that felt empty and that was it. He had so many other things he wanted to know, but it seemed leaving was the better option.

He walked away feeling empty.

—————————

So many new sights and experiences! This was his adventure, his story. There were so many opportunities for him. This was supposed to be exciting! It was what he’d been waiting for ever since he was old enough to walk.

So where had all that childish excitement gone? As he stood outside of a Pokemart, having just finished a supply run, he once again felt that vague emptiness. The city was crowded; full of people milling about and trainers looking for a battle, yet Red felt like he was alone.

He was just homesick. He missed his mom, his home, and he really missed Blue. Sure, they’d just battled a couple of hours ago and the memory of his sour face at losing was still fresh in Red’s mind, but that was the whole problem. He missed Blue being his friend. It was no secret they’d always bumped heads, but back then it was so simple. Now they were friends-turned-rivals and Blue seemed like he had something to prove. Understandable. There could only be one Champion, after all.

Still, Red found himself missing their pretend battles in his backyard, the sleepovers and birthday parties, even the prank wars they used to start despite Blue being more into them than he was. Even though they still crossed paths frequently, it felt like Red was just talking to a wall. It didn’t matter what he said to him; Blue would always find some way to steer the conversation back to becoming the Champion.

Despite the numerous interactions and even unlikely support, Red felt like he was taking the world on all alone. The weight of the Pokeballs on his belt was the only reminder he wasn’t.

—————————

He wasn’t prepared for this. Battling tough opponents, chasing after wild beasts and even obtaining what were essentially legends was one thing. Solving riddles and traveling alone wasn’t so bad either. Even Blue’s increasingly obnoxious behavior, while a bit higher on the ‘terrible scale’ than the previous examples, was still doable.

This, however? Taking on the mafia? That was something a child was ill-equipped for. He’d seen a few of their grunts before. Wrong place, wrong time. However, it hadn’t really hit him with what he was dealing with. Sure, he’d bested a few more gym leaders and took down some formidable foes, but that didn’t mean he was ready to fight a criminal organization!

Despite his panic at the situation, he found himself giving level-headed commands to his team and after a few close calls, sent the two of them scampering away. Relief washed over him like a wave as he recalled his team, and he wanted to flop onto the ground and process things for a while.

Instead, he wandered over to the objects sitting where they once stood. They must’ve dropped them in their panic to get away from him. The items were useful enough and it was clear they wouldn’t be needing them anymore. As Red pocketed the items, he wondered how he’d managed to beat them.

They were two older, experienced trainers who worked for an organization determined to make good use out of Pokemon. Their teams were impressive. Red was just some kid with big dreams who happened to wander into the wrong place at the wrong time again.

The more he thought about the battle—tried to analyze and understand it—the more it baffled him. He had been in utter panic, paralyzed by fear, yet he’d instructed his team well enough to gain the upper hand and win? He wasn’t even paying attention! All he could think about was how screwed he was, how upset his mother would be, how mad Blue would be…

His mind soon wandered to the possibilities of what they’d do when they found out. What would Blue do at word of his death? Of course he’d mourn, but would he go after Team Rocket himself to avenge his fallen rival and friend? Would he succeed?

Those were the only thoughts on Red’s mind throughout the entire battle. It happened so fast and he hadn’t been paying attention at all. So how was it possible he’d won?

—————————

Red found himself in some sort of a trance. He was too distracted, too unbothered by the outside world to break free of his own thoughts. It didn’t matter. Every trainer’s words felt meaningless anyway. He wasn’t listening and couldn’t care less about whatever it was they were telling him. Even when they seemed to have something of importance to say, Red spaced out on them.

Despite this, he found no hindrance in his goals, going exactly where he needed to be and doing exactly what he needed to do. It was an odd sense of knowing that he didn’t understand. He’d never done any of this before and yet he knew all of the necessary steps.

Had he always known?

—————————

He found that his lack of focus didn’t affect the outcome of his battles either. He could still let his mind wander in the middle of the fight and somehow, when he snapped back to reality, he was being handed money or an item and sent on his way. On the few occasions he did pay attention, everything still seemed to just… happen. It was like his body was on autopilot.

He was aware of who he sent out and when he needed to recall someone or heal them. He knew he was giving commands—how else would his team be attacking if not for his word? However, it still felt… choreographed. Despite Red’s increasing frustration at the lack of challenge, everything seemed to be laid out for him. At least he had his team. Something he did all by himself. Pokemon he caught and trained. Partners he picked out to help him on his journey. He fought hard for some of them. They were the only thing that felt special, the only thing he had any tangible say in.

So why could he swear that every time he checked his party, they seemed to be different?

—————————

He was going to lose this battle, just to see what would happen. Everyone seemed to expect him to lose, only to congratulate him—sometimes begrudgingly—when he won. What would failing do? Would they be angry? Confused? Even happier than when he won? Maybe he’d finally gain some feeling of accomplishment. He’d been zoning out, letting things happen. It was time for him to do something.

Red’s intention was to throw the battle. Send out the worst member of his team—he swore it was Golbat, but it looked like it was actually a Magikarp—use the most useless moves, and stand around and do nothing whenever he could. Maybe even take the time to ask a few questions, if this trainer was one of the more talkative types.

He really, really wanted to lose and maybe get some answers.

So why did he send out his ace and one-shot every single opponent without hesitation? Why, when he went to collect his dues from the rival trainer, did his mouth remain glued shut when his mind was firing off question after question?

Had he always been silent?

—————————

Blue.

Blue would surely know what was going on. They’d been friends for as long as Red could remember and that hadn’t changed now that they were rivals. They grew up together. They got their starters together. Red needed to know if Blue’s adventure up until this point had felt like a story that needed telling.

Red begged and pleaded with his friend to please stop joking around and answer him. He tried to; despite his rampant thoughts his mouth wouldn’t move. His face refused to convey the flurry of emotions he felt. The fear, the panic, the anger, the confusion… All of it buried behind a blank expression that merely watched what he thought was his best friend march away after another defeat.

Maybe he was in on it.

—————————

This was so pointless. Battling the Elite Four and becoming the Champion had once been all he’d ever wanted. It had been his dream. He and that fake had sought out to become the absolute best. Now that Red could finally prove himself…

He realized none of it mattered. It had been decided for him by some unseen force. His one dream, the only purpose he gave himself, was a lie. He wasn’t sure it was ever even his dream to begin with.

Everything he needed to do, he did. No exceptions. Even when he didn’t want to do it. Even if he wanted to do something else. This entire time it was all planned out. Everyone was a part of it. It was supposed to happen this way.

Except at no point did Red plan any of it. Which brought up the question: Who decided this? This was supposed to be his story, so why wasn’t he the one to write it?

—————————

Red was never fully prepared to see Blue as the Champion. He really shouldn’t be surprised about seeing him there by now. It was certainly nothing new. This was their… He couldn’t remember how many times he’d sent Blue packing. All he knew was that the feelings of betrayal and surprise were the only constants. Betrayal because no matter how many times he wanted answers from the other boy, he never, ever got them. Surprise because he couldn’t believe Blue was still on about this. His rival was always so intense about it. Red was over this whole Champion thing.

He knew that’s what they were both fighting for—at least, Blue was. Red had stopped caring a long time ago. Just like he’d stopped caring about why his party kept changing, why he always won, why things always worked out for him, and how he managed to take down the mafia. He stopped wondering why he’d always have to wake up in his room when it was all said and done and need to go through the same old motions.

Why all those around him acted like this was normal.

It just happened. It was supposed to happen.

When Blue was inevitably beaten and humiliated, Red closed his eyes and waited for his life to reset.

—————————

Each time he lived it, the fakeness of it all become more and more apparent. Painfully so. That wasn’t his mother—he was never born. Blue wasn’t his friend—he was just another obstacle. None of those trainers or champions were special—they were all meaningless tasks.

Characters. They were all characters. Not people. Not individuals with personalities. They all had roles they needed to fill. Scripts they needed to follow. He was supposed to be one of them. He was supposed to be in on it too. He used to be, once.

Too many times had he gone through with this. Too many repeats of the same. Old. Thing. The switch that flipped it all?

He made the mistake of wondering how he knew what attacks to use against someone he’d never even fought, let alone met, before. He remembered now. The tipping point. From that moment on, there was no going back. It all just stacked up from there.

The icing on the cake was that once the memories were revealed to be lies, Red couldn’t conjure up a single real memory of his life. There were only the false memories of hanging out with Blue and dreaming of becoming the best. He couldn’t recall any real family, friends, nothing. All he got were the constant episodes of each new ‘adventure.’ He was more real than anyone else in this useless world and yet he still couldn’t differentiate what made him so special.

After all, he didn’t really exist either.

—————————

Was this it then? To live through the same story over and over? To spend every waking moment knowing exactly what would happen next and being powerless to stop it? He just wanted it to stop. Just for once, he wanted to break free from the mold, do something different. Something that wasn’t meant to happen. He couldn’t take another playthrough of this. He didn’t want to be doomed to the same thing repeatedly, forever. Perpetually trapped in his own body as it did things for him and all he could do was watch.

What could possibly be worse than that?

—————————

How he wished he’d never asked. He thought he could get away with tempting fate and all it did was come back to bite him. Despite getting exactly what he wanted in this thing that wasn’t supposed to be happening, Red felt the most intense wave of fear at the sight of the entity floating above the island.

It hurt every fiber of his being to look at it, the horrid and incomprehensible droning that echoed through his mind tore apart his thoughts and left him with nothing but a deep-seated urge to run.

He remained rooted in place, forced to face this anomaly. He wanted to zone out like always, to get lost in his thoughts in this battle like all the others until it was over and he did what he was supposed to.

This was the first time he was ever fully aware of what he was doing. He couldn’t even close his eyes. It was horrific. His limbs felt heavy and stiff as they moved, as though forcibly pulled by something despite his wishes. He threw Pokeballs in an attempt to catch it.

Why did he keep trying to catch it? Who wanted this thing?! He didn’t!

He got it. Its sealed presence burned him. It was eating at him and he couldn’t tell where.

His bag was so, so heavy, and he realized he had an ungodly amount of rare candies he’d never need. Despite their diminutive size, each one seemed to weigh ten times as much.

The pain wouldn’t leave him as he trudged away and he was still vividly aware of the heavy stiffness of his limbs.

Try as he might, the pain was all he could focus on.

—————————

This was wrong, wrong, wrong. Why did he feel so wrong?

He’d felt like this ever since he caught that thing…

This was supposed to be a new start! He didn’t have it anymore. He checked. So why did he still feel it?

Why did he still hurt so much?

—————————

Its presence filled his mind and its corruption ate at his body. He was always aware of it. He was aware of them all. He never should have tried to make sense of where that Mew came from, or what the abnormal stats of some of his party said. He never should have attempted to use the impossible new move his Venusaur had learned. There was no escaping them, that much was obvious. It wouldn’t be so bad if he could pretend again. If he could just zone out like he used to, let his body run on autopilot, he could live like this. He’d be fine with the eternal repeats forever. Now that he’d lost the ability to do that, it was so agonizing. If ignorance was bliss, then knowledge was nothing but anguish.

He tried so, so hard to make it stop, to change things. Whatever had control over his life wasn’t letting go. He was sure it was laughing as his entire world broke apart, his body included. His mind was the last thing to go, still reeling from the sizzling pain his body was in as it deteriorated into nothing. He wasn’t spared the agony of feeling even his thoughts fizzle away.

There was no escaping his new nightmare.

—————————

Why was he always made to go after these things? He wanted nothing to do with these corrupted entities that confused and hurt him. He wanted to go back to repeating his stupid adventure instead of hunting down these abominations only for them to tear apart his world. The pain was different every time. It seemed he wasn’t allowed the fortune of getting used to it. Just when he thought he’d experienced the worst pain imaginable—and Red was getting pretty good at that—someway, somehow, there would be a whole new layer of suffering for him.

When would it end? He was at point where he couldn’t wait for the one to finish it. Which nightmarish entity would corrupt the world so much that it couldn’t be put back together again? When would his body get to a point where it was too dissolved and broken to go on?

He hated being the only one to endure it. He was the only one in the entire world that understood what was happening. Sure, sometimes the others were hapless victims when an event happened. Occasionally, he’d see them ripped apart and even rearranged right before his eyes. When reality itself warped into something unrecognizable and incomprehensible they still attempted to carry on as normal. They didn’t scream in pain and terror. They couldn’t fathom what was happening.

Lucky bastards.

—————————

He hated, hated, hated this. The rage building up inside of him had reached a boiling point. It was the first thing in what felt like eons that numbed the pain a bit. He found it gave him a new sense of focus.

He was aware all his torment was the will of whatever had control over him. If only he could find out how to stop it. If it could control him like this and manipulate his world like it was a doll-house, then there had to be a way for him to get to it. It had to be somewhere. He always wondered about the thing that seemed to find this sick torture funny. He wondered what he’d do if given the chance to find the source of his misery.

What if he stopped wondering and started pushing back?

—————————

Had it always been so easy? Was he just stupid?

Red stood completely still, letting his newly acquired grip on his personal hell strengthen until the urge to keep walking disappeared altogether. This was it. He was finally free. He still suffered from the constant agony of his body’s corruption. He was still reeling from being thrown around like some broken puppet.

But now?

Now he was finally in control of himself, and he could do exactly as he pleased. What better way to test out one’s newfound freedom than by giving their sadistic tormentor a taste of their own medicine? How would they feel if their mind and body was destroyed by some monster?

He was all too gleeful to find out.

—————————

The young player dropped the Game Boy with a yelp as the speakers emitted a high-pitched whine at an impossible volume. Thinking quickly, they snatched it back up and flipped the switch off. The noise stopped instantly.

“Are you ok, Alex?”

They jumped again at the sound of their father in the doorway. “Yeah, Dad. Sorry about that. It froze or something and scared me.”

He nodded. “Well, it’s getting late. I know it’s the weekend but you should still try to get some sleep. It’s not a good idea to spend all night staring at that tiny screen.”

They shrugged. After that little scare, they were inclined to agree. They felt exhausted all of a sudden.

As they exchanged goodnight, Alex went about getting ready for bed. The Game Boy was set atop the dresser and the whole incident was promptly forgotten about as they dozed off.

—————————

Alex awoke in an empty void. It was completely silent; they couldn’t even hear their own breathing. Were they even breathing?

“Am I still alive right now?” they wondered aloud.

“You won’t be for much longer,” a voice echoed from the abyss.

He was clearly a child, but he looked nothing like innocence. His eyes were full of malice and the more Alex stared, the more unnerving characteristics they noticed. There were no lines or wrinkles on his face, no texture whatsoever. The shadows didn’t seem to make sense; they were sharp and jutted wherever they pleased despite the lack of lighting.

Alex whirled and found none other than what looked to be the character of Red standing inches behind them, form rigid and fists by his sides. He stood just below their height. His face held no emotion despite his words. His eyes glowed like his namesake and although his broken, garbled voice was unsettlingly deep, his face looked young. Younger than themselves even.

His outfit was dull and his eyes were the only real color he had. Despite his boyish look his skin was ghastly and pale; the shadows on his body and face were bold and stood out even amidst the darkness.

The worst, however, had to be his eyes. They—in addition to the unnatural red they glowed—lacked the usual attributes as well. Just blank whites holding two smooth irises with pupils and nothing more. The lack of detail on his features made him seem fake. Alex felt cold at the sight of him.

What kind of a dream was this?

Red observed the being before him. They weren’t at all what he was expecting. There were so many different colors. They seemed so vivid, their outfit standing out against the shadows. He could see little details on their skin; small spots and lines and bumps. Their brown eyes were wide, and Red noted little slivers amongst the color as well as thin red lines throughout the whites. He watched their pupils repeatedly change size as they made minute movements, no doubt taking in his own appearance. Even their eyebrows held an impossible amount of detail; being made of multiple fibers rather than two smears of color.

He could hear their faint breaths, their nostrils flaring with each inhale as their chest expanded slightly before the air was pushed back out. He was fascinated by the way their breath hitched as he brought his hand below their nose to feel the escaping warmth.

It was all foreign to him. When he focused on them as a whole he noted how they were just above his height, auburn hair messy and arms wrapped around themselves in some sort of hug. So this was the one behind all his suffering? This was his demented tormentor all along? They were clearly afraid of him.

His lips stretched into a demonic smile.

Alex began backing away as Red moved even closer, the smile never fading. “Wait,” they tried, hoping they’d wake up soon. “Stay back.”

Red's hands shot out like cobras to grip his former captor’s arms tightly. He found that doing so caused them to scream in pain, so he dug his nails in for extra effect. His fingers felt warm and something felt ready to give beneath them. Some sort of red substance began to flow out and fall to the floor in droplets. The smile became a wild snarl as rage overtook him.

“You thought it was funny, didn’t you?!” he screamed, voice breaking up. His whole body seized with painful glitches. Would he ever be rid of them?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” they cried, wanting to break away from Red but knowing that trying to struggle out of his grasp would only do more damage. They had no choice but to continue to face him. “I just wanted to mess around with the game!” They choked out another cry when his nails dug in deeper, tearing muscle.

“Game? Game?! Am I a joke to you?! Do you know what it felt like? Do you know how much pain and suffering I went through for your little game?” He grit his teeth so hard that the pain in his jaw drowned out his usual agony. For the first time ever, he could ignore the way his body fizzled in and out of solidity. He made his grip a little tighter and felt something crack. He watched their tears fall as the red liquid continued to ooze out.

He wondered how much of it would spill if he kept his grip and pulled; how much it would hurt for them to be violently torn apart by something that shouldn’t be. He wondered if he’d become as real as they were afterwards, if he could somehow take their details and colors and breathing for himself.

“Please…” they whimpered. This was no dream. It hurt too much to be anything other than real. Red’s anger felt suffocating.

Despite all he wanted to say, all the questions he wanted to ask, Red found himself laughing. The harsh sound echoed throughout the darkness as he watched them cower in his grasp. He’d really done it. He’d found the source of his suffering and the sooner he got rid of it the sooner he could live. No more scripts, no more repeats, no more being ripped apart endlessly. As much as he wanted to show them what his torment felt like, he was ready for all of this to be over.

The giddy feeling of victory overtook him as he laughed and laughed, reveling in the fear in his prey’s eyes. Without warning, he sunk his fingers in as deep as he could and pulled.

Alex’s arms were ripped off like they were made of paper and they fell to their knees with a horrid scream, legs having long given out from the pain of Red’s grasp. The insane laughter had settled into silence as they flopped face-first onto the ground, head turned towards their killer. They felt the fading warmth of their blood surround them as the pale-skinned figure stood over them, eyes glinting and that cruel smile back on his face.

Red watched the crimson puddle spread out and soak into their hair and clothes as their eyes became dull and unfocused. He observed the torn limbs he held—the way they still leaked red and the jagged white shards that stuck out from the ends. There were similar ones on the mutilated stumps of the body at his feet. Stretchy threads hung out limply. Out of curiosity, he squeezed one of the arms with all his strength and a wet crunch sounded as it bent at an unnatural angle.

After a few more moments of examining them, he grew bored of the severed appendages and let them fall to the ground with a dull thump. He brought his hands up and noted the sticky mess under and around his nails. This was really it.

It was so easy. Too easy.

—————————

Alex was powerless against the supernatural grip on their arms. They struggled and struggled, but to no avail. He wasn’t letting go.

“ALEX!”

Their eyes shot open and found not Red, but their parents staring down at them in fear and concern.

“Are you ok?! You were screaming so much and you’re bleeding!”

As their father released them, they shakily took in their surroundings and noted that they were indeed back in their room. They were in too much shock to say anything.

Alex's mother gently brushed their hair out of their face and pulled the sleeves of their pajama shirt up to inspect their arms, frightened about the bright red stains. The lack of a reaction from Alex made the fear worsen.

There were deep scratches like claw marks on the both of them. The light blue sheets were stained with the same red as their shirt.

All Alex could do was cry and beg to be hugged.

—————————

Red found himself in his room again, like nothing had changed. He felt a pull to go outside and wanted to scream.

It seemed whatever he’d done was temporary. Or perhaps that wasn’t the one controlling him. Maybe it was a decoy, or just another part of the act.

Fine. He’d go along with it for now. All he had to do was find them. He knew what he could do now too. Eventually, someone would have to be the one he was looking for.

He could wait. He’d gone on this long, he could keep going. With his newfound abilities, he’d find them sooner or later.

Oh, how he couldn’t wait to make them suffer like he had.

Please ignore that I said Red had no properly human features but then turned around and gave him nails. The thought of him not having them kinda grossed me out, lol. But yes, this version of Red is a psychotic bastard with a vendetta against literally anyone. In case it wasn't obvious, the story skips ahead a lot. It starts around the time the game originally came out--and I suspect people would've played it normally in the beginning. Then as time went on and word got out, people learned about all the fun ways to break the game. The gist is that after the first many playthroughs, Red starts feeling the deja vu and begins questioning things. He could've gone on like that forever and been none the wiser, but then players had to go an discover the glitches. If it weren't for that, Red wouldn't have realized he was in trapped in a game, he wouldn't be so angry, and he wouldn't have achieved actual sentience/sapience. He'd just be forever wondering why everything keeps repeating. Edited Fun Fact: When I first posted this, I made Alex an adult instead of the kid they were originally. I have decided to go back to that initial idea because I think it reads better and establishes this version of Glitchy Red's rage better too. This version of Red is hyper-aggressive to adults and children, so I think Alex being younger fits. Red is "11" here, and Alex is 13. I give Red's age quotes because chronologically he's much, much older. Although I like to think he doesn't care about age and doesn't really acknowledge it, due to his poor sense of time. But yeah, physically he is 11. Other than Alex's age everything else is exactly the same. Red is furious with anyone who interacts with the game in any way and thinks of them as his captors.

I kept Alex gn because I initially wasn't even sure I was gonna keep them in there. I kind of added them in because I happened to be mad at someone who happens to also be named Alex... You know what they say about pissing writers off... I will definitely be posting more on this at random, lol. Between working on Connection, of course. This is yet another project that got away from me and I spent several hours adding to it when I was supposed to just post it. Oops.

#glitchy red #pokepasta #fanfic #my writing #and again #tw violence #tw blood #tw psychological torture

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